


Scattered Thoughts

by chesnut



Category: Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2406710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chesnut/pseuds/chesnut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A certain tea loving deity reflects on their state of existence.  They are bad at spilling.</p>
<p>(Warning for unreality, maybe?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scattered Thoughts

Time ticks by. Tea is poured. People move on. Whether you do is a mystery to all and yourself. 

You do not know where you go during these moments of peace. The void cannot touch you, however that is where you are. A place of peace, aloneness, comfort, and silence. Part of you wishes you could say that the emptiness is familiar, but it is not. Of course you cannot recall your time here, because you did not exist. And you do not exist now, yet these experiences are still yours. You. Whoever you are. You do not remember that detail, but others are apt to call you Death.

Existing in a place of nonexistence. That describes you very well. An entity of a nonentity. A manifestation of an inevitable state. A living concept. Though, living might not be the accurate term for you. An existing one. One who clings to their nonexistence as if it were a lifeline. Though, lifeline might not be the accurate term for you.

It is difficult to articulate your state of mind, part of it being god, part of it being mortal, part of it being nothing, part of it being everything. The silence makes it easier. This is the void. There are no voices here. There are no people. There are no smells. There are no sensations. It is blank, a clean slate where you are safe to spill out the mess of your mind. You do not think you spill it out well. There are pieces missing. These pieces cannot be recovered, you think. They are lost. It is unnerving to know that you cannot fully empty yourself when part of you is gone and exists elsewhere. Your thoughts do not feel coherent. Your emotions feel rather the same. You are not good at spilling things. At least the guests you offer tea seem to appreciate that.

It feels as though your mind works itself to death while you muse over... whatever it is you muse over. Your thoughts are scattered, but they are always scattered. That is why you are here, though. For the embrace of nothingness, for the empty, all-consuming darkness. It surrounds you. It swallows you. It comforts you.

Time does not exist. There is no tea. People are gone. Whether you are is a mystery to all and yourself.


End file.
